


Nobody Does it Better

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-15
Updated: 2008-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A good spy learns from his mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Does it Better

**Author's Note:**

> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

When Fiona smiled after that last fight and said "one more for the road, Michael?" I thought she meant sex. I meant sex. We always meant sex. Every fight, every celebration, Fiona and I ended them all with sex. Usually began them that way, too. So I said yes, then headed for the shower to wash off the blood and grime from the last forty-eight hours. Only half of it came from the fight I'd been in before coming back to the hotel we were calling home this week. The rest was all Fiona.

"Take your time, darling," she called after me.

I slammed the door.

"That's nice, Michael."

I opened it and slammed it once again just to get my point across. I heard her laughing as I took off my clothes and dropped them on the floor. The hot water hurt like hell on my cuts but it'd ease the aches and pains. If I was lucky it'd make me limber enough to keep up with Fiona later.

The bathroom door clicked open and I stiffened at the thought of Fiona. With her it's as if my body doesn't know how to react, instinct tightening my shoulders in defense, my legs in fear, and my cock in excitement. Best I've ever had, that woman.

"How are we doing in there?"

"Fine." We'd be doing better if she'd strip off her clothes and climb in here with me. We'd be doing great if she'd wrap her long, wet legs around my hip while I pounded her into the tiled wall. "Fi? Want to--?"

"No."

"No?"

"Washing the blood from your clothes, dear," she sang out. "You just relax, now."

Never allowing yourself to relax is the first thing you learn long before you even think of becoming a spy and I'd learned it well. If I were given to lengthy fits of introspection I might have taken some time to blame my parents for that and the other personality quirks that made me unsuited for a nice, safe desk job reading the emails of private citizens looking for threats to domestic security. No, I had to be the desk jockey's dream: a real spy.

Yeah, I was thrilled about it, too. I celebrated by washing the dried blood out of my hair and fantasizing about Fiona's hands. She had great hands with slender, agile fingers good for getting into small places. The things I'd seen her do with those hands.

I was getting hard again. I called out for Fi and got no answer.

I ran out of hotel soap before I ran out of hot water, so I called it quits on the shower and stepped out onto the mat. We were out of towels, which was typical but not surprising because Fiona used one to towel off, one to wrap around her hair, and another three or so to polish mirrors and drop on the floor. I grabbed a hand towel and dried off what I could. We could call for more towels before we got started and they'd be waiting in the hall by the time we were through.

"Fi. We need more towels."

"Oh. Are we out?"

I wiggled the hand towel in front of me.

She crawled across the bed toward me, long hair obscuring her face and giving me only quick glimpses of her tanned skin.

"What are you wearing?"

"More than you." She grabbed at the hand towel and pulled it away from me. "A lot more than you."

I pushed her hair aside as she rose to her knees. "That's cute. New?"

She ran her hands over the string bikini barely covering her hips, and lowered her eyes, blushing. "Like it, Michael?"

I was in trouble. Coyness passed Fi by a long time ago. She's never coy, not unless she's up to something. "I love it. Now get rid of it."

Her laugh trailed off as she lowered her mouth over my cock. Making bombs and setting fires were not the only things Fiona was good at. I wrapped her hair around my fist and lifted it off her face so I could watch. "You're incredible, Fi."

"Oh, I know that I am." She sucked harder, making an enthusiastic slurping noise that was causing my knees to buckle. I only ever felt like that under direct fire or around Fi. "Do you know that I am, Michael?"

"Yes?"

Her teeth grazed my cock. "You aren't sure?"

"I'm sure. You're incredible. Amazing. Nobody does it better, Fi."

"Spy jokes. Funny." She moved away from me and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "You always fall back on that, Michael. You always hide behind what you are."

"I'm not hiding." Truth to tell, I wasn't sure if I was hiding or not. So many years in the business and there were days when I couldn't remember which parts of Michael Westen had been invented for a job and which I'd been born with.

"Oh, you are."

Okay. New plans for the afternoon. Less sex, more calming down Fiona before I got hurt or the hotel blew up. "Fi…"

She stood and reached past me. "Pass me that, would you?"

I looked around, afraid she was asking about a gun and relieved to find she wanted a brightly patterned sarong. "Going out?"

"I need a drink."

"I'll get dressed and go with you. Just give me a minute."

"Don't bother." She tied her hair in some sort of knot on the back of her head and grabbed her bag then slipped on her shoes. "Besides, you don't have any clothes."

"What?" She ignored me and I followed her to the door. "Fiona? What did you say about my clothes?"

"I said you don't have any clothes." She opened the door to the hallway and I backed away, trying to stay out of sight. "No clothes, no towels, no wallet, no phone. And if you'd been less interested in a fuck and more in your surroundings you might have noticed I'd stripped the bed so you've got no sheets or blankets either."

She blew a kiss at me while she was closing the door. "There's a towel on the balcony, Michael. If you hurry you might be able to catch it before it blows away."

I bolted for the balcony doors and ran outside just in time to see the towel fluttering in the wind. Fi might give you a chance but it's never a fair one. And she was right, if I'd paid more attention to her mood and less to her breasts and mouth I might be lying on that bed satisfied right now, with her just as naked as me, instead of standing nude on the balcony air-drying my groin.

Fi called up to me. I put my hands over my crotch and peered over the balcony into the parking lot below where she was standing next to my car. "The balcony door is locked." She paused, half in the car, one long gorgeous leg sticking out. I was distracted by her leg and my nudity just long enough to see the door closing behind me when I turned. "But don't worry, I'll call your mother to bring you some pants. In a few hours or so."

I crouched behind a metal chair and tried to ignore the cold wind. "Fi? Do you think you could call Sam? Possibly now?"

"No, Michael, I don't think that I could. I think that I'm going shopping and then I'm going to need time to catch my plane." She withdrew her leg and shut the door, then leaned out the open window. "And I know you're going to need time to think about what you've done."

I didn't know what it was she thought I'd done wrong, but in my business you rarely did. Most times you were lucky if you even knew who was trying to kill you and this time I was not only alive, but I knew who to blame for the way my testicles were trying to crawl back up inside me to hide both from the wind and from the guy in the next hotel who I swore was staring at me. The way I figured it, I was one step ahead of the game.

A good spy learns from his mistakes. Next time I'd hide spare pants on the balcony.


End file.
